


A Promise

by spacepirating



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, mostly just a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6445237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacepirating/pseuds/spacepirating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The Warden's last step is inevitable. To die this way is considered noble by many. In the eyes of the Maker, it is said there is no greater sacrifice.'  Grey Wardens don't get a happy ending, and it is no different for the Hero of Ferelden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise

_The Maker smiles sadly on his Grey Wardens, so the Chantry says, as no sacrifice is greater than theirs._

It started out slowly; a nightmare amongst many, but different than the others. These new nightmares held the weight of those she was plagued with so many years ago, the weight that she had all but forgotten despite the anchor it had in her blood. They were always the same. A sunny valley, a warm breeze, familiar arms around her, a cloud blotting out the sun morphing into a dragon’s wings, the grass burning to ash, and a song. Above all, there was a song. If she had been asked to hum it, she could not; perhaps she didn’t even know it was a song. What it really was to her was light in the darkness, a gentle grasping hand pulling her closer and whispering promises to her that everything would be better. It was terrifying. It was beautiful and comforting and terrifying. This is why she kept it a secret.

When she jerked away in the middle of the night, she would sooth Alistair’s worried glances with a simple “it was just a bad dream, it was nothing.” He always believed her—he had them too—and he would just pull her closer to his chest and fall back asleep. Maybe it was nothing. She was promised 30 years, after all, and it had not nearly been that long. It was nothing.

That is, it _was_ nothing until the song started to invade her waking life. She didn’t notice it at first; as always it crept its way almost silently into her mind. Sure enough, however, she came to realize that the foreign wanton echoes in her mind did not end when she opened her eyes. It became hard to concentrate on anything with this constant melody in her head seducing her to an end she knew all too well. She could almost block it out when she concentrated on other things: on training, on speaking, on planning. She threw herself entirely into her work. She had always been a hard worker—growing up hungry in the streets of the Denerim alienage helps a person develop a remarkable work ethic—but this was different. It was unhealthy and people noticed. 

It wasn’t long before Alistair approached her about her behavior. “Are you okay, Kya? Like, really actually okay? You haven’t been entirely yourself lately and I’m worried.” he asked her, his brows knit together the way they always do when he’s worried. Normally she would find it cute the way he worried about her, but now she just wanted to hide. _No, Alistair. I’m not okay. I’m losing my mind and there is nothing I can do about it._ “I’m fine, silly. You know you don’t need to worry about me.”

Eventually, she couldn’t hide it from him anymore. She didn’t _want_ to hide it from him anymore. It was tearing her apart inside and she needed his comfort, needed him to tell her that everything was going to be okay. She told him one night after waking from another nightmare, a whispered confession barely discernible through the tears closing her throat. He was scared and so was she and he held her the rest of the night through her tears and through his own.

It was okay for awhile. It was still present in her mind all the time, but she found distractions that made it so she could almost forget it was there. Alistair helped. Long ago when they were young and the threat of the Blight still hanged over their heads they would hold each other at night and mutter promises to each other. He reminded her of one such promise now; when their Calling came, they would answer it together. They would exit this life side by side; that was nonnegotiable.

But her condition got worse and his health remained. She found herself losing herself in the song—in its beautiful, haunting melody. She could barely hear herself think and she found that she didn’t want to if it meant dampening its strength. And the pain, _Maker_ , the pain. Her blood felt like poison in her veins and try as she might to ignore the song, it was the one solace she could find in the agony she felt. That’s what she hated the most; she hated how it was taking her mind from her and how she welcomed it with open arms. She could feel it tearing her away from Alistair. With each passing day she became more distant and he became more worried and while she knew he still loved her more than anything, she found she didn’t care. She hadn’t the strength to care.

Eventually she was not herself any longer. She was a shell of the Hero of Ferelden from ages ago; she was agony and music in an elven frame. She wanted nothing more than to end it all, to finally answer the Call and end the fire that burned in her blood but she couldn’t. Alistair was not ready. He told her that he would go anyway if it would help, he would do anything to soothe her pain, but she refused. She would not allow him to cut his life short because she was weak. No, she must hold on until he was ready. They would face the end together or not at all.

When they finally made the journey to Orzammar it was not as they had promised so long ago. They were meant to drink and indulge the night before they entered the deep roads to never return. They were meant to party and enjoy each other knowing that their time had come and they were going to face their Calling as they had faced everything else—together, hand in hand. Even as they entered the dark caverns of the deep roads, they were not together. He had gone too early and she too late; she was nothing more than corruption with the face of his wife and he was scared. 

He watched as a hurlock cut her down easily, her normal agility replaced by sluggish movements and hazy eyes. He held her as she bled out; he whispered gentle words to her as tears began to stream down his cheeks. Doubt and regret flooded his mind as he held her there in the dark. He hadn’t kissed her enough, hadn’t told her he loved her enough. Maker, how could he be sure she knew that he loved her if he hadn’t more time to tell her? 

There was a brief moment of conscious clarity in which a gentle smile pulled at the corners of her mouth and the fog in her eyes seemed to clear as she pressed a trembling finger against his lips to gently shush him. She tried to move her hand to cup his cheek, but it fell weakly to her side. He could barely focus on her face through his tears, could barely hear her voice gently repeating his name over his own sobs. Eventually, however, he quieted enough to hear her whisper a reminder to him. A promise from long ago. _Together._ With a fresh flood of tears, he nodded and kissed her hand, her forehead, her wet cheeks as he whispered reassurances and I love you’s. He watched as the consciousness slipped from her eyes and felt the last gentle beat of her heart come to and end. 

He hated himself for it, but her death came as a relief. At last her pain was ended. He gently laid her body upon the ground, kissed her forehead one last time, and rose to face his own end. _In Death, Sacrifice._ He would see her again soon.

**Author's Note:**

> if there was no cure to the calling, i imagine my warden and alistair would have this idea in their mind that they would both get their calling at the same time and die in each others arms gloriously in the deep roads, but obviously life doesn't work that way. 
> 
> anyway, this is my first post here and i'm still super new to all this, so please let me know what you think!


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